


Acceptance

by the-nug-king (eloralouistra)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Autistic Character, Autistic OC, Gen, Non-Binary OC, Non-binary character, autistic warden struggles with social cues and conventions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 05:18:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11350677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloralouistra/pseuds/the-nug-king
Summary: Warden Cousland has never felt like a man or a woman, and is trying to work out how to tell their companions.  Qunari opinions on gender don't make anything easier.





	Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for some misgendering (but things work out in the end).

Griffon had visited Redcliffe once before with their parents, a diplomatic visit from the Teyrn of Highever and his family to the Arl of Redcliffe. It had been a pleasanter time; no Blight, no villagers hiding in the Chantry from zombies, no worries about whether or not the Arl was all right. Griffon’s parents still alive. But at the same time, at least killing corpses was something Griffon could understand, unlike the politics discussed by their parents and Arl Eamon, or the etiquette they were expected to follow without instructions. At least this was a fresh start, where they could maybe be themself a bit more. If they can work out how to tell their companions who they are, at all.

They finish cleaning blood from their sword and look around the camp. The group set it up a short distance away from Redcliffe village. Close enough to be able to get there in a hurry if there’s a second attack, but far enough away that they don’t have to sleep surrounded by now twice dead corpses. Most of their companions are cleaning their own weapons and preparing for bed. Sten, however, is staring right at them, frowning. Had they done something wrong? Their sword is clean and their clothes seem to be clean, and not slipping indecently off. They put down their sword and walk over, sitting down next to him. “Is something wrong? You were staring at me.”

Sten nods quickly. “I don’t understand. You look like a woman.”

Griffon freezes, their heart suddenly feeling like it’s thundering in their ears. Sten _knows_. He’s realised and they won’t have to work out how to tell anyone themself, or have to work up the nerve to do it themself when everyone might think they’re strange or confused or stupid. Sten’s talking to them about it now, and if he’s realised, it means people won’t think they’re lying or joking, doesn’t it?

They take a deep breath. “You mean… you mean you don’t understand how I’m…” The words are hard to find because of course they are when Griffon needs them most, because Griffon’s only ever been able to define themself in terms of what they’re _not_.

“You are a Grey Warden. So it follows that you can’t be a woman.”

That’s... hardly the reasoning Griffon was expecting. They weren’t a woman before being a Grey Warden either. Alistair had said there’d never been many Grey Warden women, hadn’t he? Perhaps Sten has only heard of the male ones, and assumed that there were no others. Perhaps it had nothing to do with not being a woman at all.

“What does that mean?” they ask, frowning.

Sten sighs, as if Griffon is being deliberately obtuse. “Women are priests, artisans, shopkeepers or farmers. They don’t fight.”

He’s wrong. It shouldn’t matter because Griffon’s not what he’s arguing about anyway. But he’s wrong. “A lot of women do fight,” they say instead. “I’ve met lots of female soldiers and you must have seen Leliana and Morrigan fight tonight. Andraste herself was a warrior!”

“Why would women ever wish to be men?” he says, frowning. “That makes no sense.”

And there it is. If you’re born a woman, you’re supposed to stay a woman, because why would you want to be anything else? Sten doesn’t even know, but he thinks they’re stupid anyway. “Why does anyone have to be either?” they snap back. “What if someone wishes to fight but doesn’t wish to be a man _or_ a woman? What’s so wrong with that?”

Sten’s frown only grows. _“_ Do they also wish to live on the moon? That’s as attainable _._ ”

Griffon stares up at the moon. It’s further away than they can comprehend, obviously impossible to live on and however different they are, Qunari must know that too. What Griffon wants, what they think they are, can’t be that unobtainable. It just _can’t_ .  “No,” they say. “You’re wrong. It’s _not_.”

“I don’t know what to make of you. Perhaps this is a quality of Grey Wardens I had not heard about. A person is born: qunari, or human, or elven, or dwarf. He doesn’t choose that. The size of his hands, whether he is clever or foolish, the land he comes from, the color of his hair: These are beyond his control. We do not choose, we simply are.”

Griffon never chose to be like this. They never asked for any of this confusion or hurt or abnormality but even so, it feels as much a part of them as small hands and black hair and human anatomy. And as much a part as being a warrior, and now a Grey Warden, with all its sense of belonging and acceptance, wherever you come from. Whoever you are. They glare up at Sten. “But I don’t have to be who you say I should be!” They turn and leave before they have to hear Sten’s reply. Before it gets too much and he sees them cry.

***

Griffon runs a hand through Vinsomer’s hair again, hugging their dog tight. He’s soft and warm and comforting, and blessedly free of judgements. They curl their body in towards him, concentrating on the feel of his fur beneath their hands and the sound of his tail thwacking against the ground, slowly feeling their breathing grow even again.

“Griffon?”  
  
Griffon jumps, looking up to see Leliana looking down at them, eyes wide and brow creased in, is that concern? “I came to see if you were all right,” she says, sitting down beside them.

They nod. “I… I’m sorry for making such a fuss.” _A lady must always appear respectable_ , Mother had told them, sighing and shaking her head. And Griffon had never been what she wanted but after everything, the least they can do is try to have the manners befitting a Cousland. “I didn’t mean to get so upset, I just, I thought Sten realised that… I mean…”

“That you are not a woman?”

Griffon stares at her. Someone _had_ realised. Sten hadn’t understood at all, but Leliana knows, somehow Leliana understands. “How…?”

Leliana smiles and places a hand on their shoulder. “You flinch every time someone addressed you as my lady, or Miss. Griffon is not a name a noble couple give their child; you clearly changed it from something else. What you said to Sten merely confirmed it.”

“And… you’re all right with that?”

“Of course! You meet all kinds of people when you’re a- a minstrel! There’s hardly anything strange about being like you.”

A warm, contented feeling is spreading through Griffon, and everything suddenly feels a lot more hopefully than it had a minute ago. “So, I’m not the only one?”

“I’ve met men born as women, women born as men, neither born as one or the other. It’s quite normal, and you are far from alone.”

They’re _normal_ , they’re not alone and Leliana _understands_. “Will you help me tell the rest of the group? I mean, I want them to know, but I can’t work out how to tell them. I’d appreciate help.”

“Of course! And perhaps we can figure out a way to explain to Sten that women can fight at the same time?”

“I’d like that. Thank you.” They smile at Leliana, and she smiles back, and everything seems better than it has done in weeks, and Griffon thinks that maybe they can do this after all.


End file.
